Draco Dies
by DrarryGhostWriter
Summary: A dying Draco Malfoy recounts the story of his biggest mistake and his love story with Harry Potter along the way.
1. I meet bighead Potter

This is the story of my biggest mistake. The funny thing about mistakes though, they can bring sweet pain and forbidden pleasure. One word can change your luck, and one big mistake? That can change your life forever. My name is Draco Malfoy and even as I lay here dying, I wouldn't change a thing. My biggest mistake is my greatest pride.

It all started on the first day of Hogwarts. I had met him before then, Harry Potter that is, but I only saw a new student like me when we met. He was clueless about our world, so it is no wonder that I didn't recognise him. I grew up hearing this boy's name as a hiss and a curse around my house, but there was no reason for him to stick in my mind before I knew his name. Yet, I couldn't stop thinking of him. That odd boy in the clothes shop.

Even when I got on the Hogwarts express weeks later he was on my mind. I wondered Idly where he was on the train or if we would meet again. I had no intention of looking for him, or anyone for that matter, but the rumors passing by, like the breeze that foretells a storm, caught me. I could hear it in the hall and see it on their lips, Harry Potter was on the train. Famous Potter, the boy who lived, was here.

I heard his name in my father's complaints. Saw his effect on my mother's fears. The what-ifs ran rampant alongside his story. I knew what dark paths my family trod, I knew and reveled in that knowledge. Ever since I could talk I heard of how he ruined the Dark Lord. My parents never hid the struggle of fitting back into society from me. This Harry Potter had played such a role in my life merely by being born. I had to meet him.

Leaving Crabbe and Goyle behind was no trouble, I threw food and they ate. Disgusting minions, just like their fathers are to mine. My heart sped up as I moved down the train. "Compartment six" and "With that Weasley." These comments leaked from the cars I passed, along with others. The Weasley bit was particularly odd to hear, I mean really, they were known as the most pathetic wizarding family, blood traitors the lot of them. If they were hanging around Potter it was bound to be for money, they lived in one room or something for all I knew.

Potter was famous, even notorious around those I knew. He had this draw to him, something that pulled people in. I wanted his friendship instantly. I must admit, when I decided that, my interest in Potter was that of a collector buying a rare piece. I had no interest as him as a person, but then he never had been in my mind. It wasn't my fault, it was just the way I was raised, he was a story, nothing more.

I found his compartment quickly. It was ridiculously easy. All down the way were the rumors, gigglers, and gawkers whispering and pointing the way to him. My racing pulse stopped dead when I saw who he was and my heart skipped a beat. "You," I said famous Harry Potter was my odd boy in Madam Malkin's. No one noticed my outburst and shock, least of all Potter and that Weasley boy, Ronald's his name, but I had no clue what it was then. They were elbow deep in treats that no doubt Potter had bought. Stupid Ronald. He couldn't pay a single knut if his life depended on it. I still don't like him.

I threw open the door without hesitation. "Harry Potter." I extended the hand of my friendship and a way to escape Ronald before it was too late. He wouldn't even touch my hand. I have to admit, I was embarrassed a bit, but more so I was hurt. I reacted in anger after that, as often I do. I laughed louder, showed off more, and kept that cutting edge to everything I said as the sorting started. I was not surprised to end up in Slytherin, for I knew that was my place. That hat got the room's attention when it said his name though. "Harry Potter." Two words and the whole school was abuzz. I never told a soul of the nagging hope that he would be in my house.

I quickly rose to a position of power among the other first years. The Malfoys have always been a powerful force, and not just because of our money. No one was surprised that I took the top slot in my year. Even some older students did my bidding. I rose in popularity and respect, and there was no one I couldn't win over somehow. Except Potter and his friends. He and I became rivals that year. I remember how angry he made me. We clashed in the halls, classes, and even in my dreams. Potions was the greatest satisfaction to me, not only because Snape loved me, but also because he hated Potter as much as I loved tormenting Potter. That class was my kingdom really. Nothing could stop me and Potter was my goal. If he didn't want me as a friend, then I would have him as my rival.

In flying lessons I got the first taste of the passion he had. Bumbling idot Neville, waste of a pureblood if there ever was one, left that toy behind. Neville hung around Potter's little trio on occasion, so I thought Potter would rise to my taunts. I wasn't wrong either. We rose in the air with the same level of grace, mine came from years of practice, but his was natural. I was cocky about the thing, and before you ask- yes I can admit that I am not perfect, crazy right? Then he threatened to knock me off my broom and I saw it. His passion was there in his startling green eyes, burning with a fire I'd never before seen. My heart started racing and a new feeling hit. This was one feeling I didn't cause a show over. It terrified me, and so I fled.

I tried to ignore my inner feelings and forget them too. He played quidditch and I mocked him for it. He slipped and I was there to laugh at his failure. He growled once when I approached with Crabbe and Goyle. We were enemies, glorious rivals! He and I danced to a beat only we could hear. Our fatal tango only grew more complex each day, the two of us were bobbing and weaving to an ever increasing tattoo. Something had to give, due to this rivalry between us that grew larger and fiercer.

Nothing happened in that year, nothing between us that is. He increased his legend and I increased my influence to match him. We parted ways without a backwards glance, but once at home I couldn't stop talking about him. Father grew weary of my talk and Mother disapproved of my obsession with him. I then began to rant to Dobby, our house elf. He had to listen if I commanded him to. I couldn't wait to see Potter again and I swore to myself it was only to torment him. My lies fooled everyone; I even fooled myself back then. When the journey to the Hogwarts Express came time I was ecstatic; running only on my own growing passion.

The attacks started second year. The whole 'heir of slytherin' thing was a pain. Potter got all the credit for it! Father said to let it go and get on with school. He was glad to have rid of more mudbloods at school. Still I was upset that HE got all the glory and fear from the attacks. It only made him more untouchable. I hated him so much and he was on my mind far too often. Potter Potter Potter, great prat Potter, bloody annoying Potter, and famous Harry Potter. I wanted to make him pay for being on my mind. He had to be punished for the passion he invoked in me. I caused problems for him whenever we crossed paths. He had other things on his mind though, I watched his anger with me become replaced with his other worries. It killed me to see, so I grew more bold with my attacks on him. Nothing I did that year fazed him.


	2. Sirius Black is useless

Over the summer Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban, and I was sooo impressed. Reading and studying him was my project over that summer. What with my father's clever avoidance of the law, and by cleverness I mean that he paid off the backstabbing traitors within the ministry to overlook our take on various laws. It's always nice to find some idiot who's easily bought. They make my life much less stressful, so maybe I should send a card or something. Anyways, The Malfoys aren't always technically 'legal' so escaping Azkaban is a skill I'd like to know.

Just a week before the return to Hogwarts was when I discovered why he got out…. To kill Potter. My response was quite shameful actually. A rare occurrence as I am nearly perfect in the self-pride department. When I found out that lovely bit of information my stomach sank. I felt a sense of dread, a sense that I knew even then was wrong and irrational. I tried to convince myself to be thrilled, because after all my new hero wanted to rid me of my greatest rival. Any wizard should be happy and grateful. I didn't hate the feeling, but it did terrify me. I could not bear to accept what my dread might mean. It scared me, so I buried it deeper. I've always focused more on self-preservation than bravery.

The followings days were hell on my system. It was me beating my true feelings down and building a fiery desire to aid Sirius in getting Potter killed. I threw myself into researching their history together and how I could use the facts and rumors to break Potter. I had to be reminded to leave my research to eat or sleep. Mother was worried and Father even seemed to be slightly unsure about me. Despite that, I was deep in whispered rumor by the time we got on the train. I had my exact words to Potter planned out. Every word was designed to break his walls and inspire the rage needed to get him killed.

I mostly ignored Potter after that first day, okay not in quidditch, but that is straight up house rivalry. It is a necessary competition to keep my reputation up. The new Nimbus set for my Slytherin team was so satisfying, oh the look on his face when he saw them! That awful Granger mudblood intervened though, so it could've been even more fun, but hey, take what victories you can right?. He beat me in quidditch and I got even further fired up against him. Everything was going well, the dementors knocked him off his broom and I laughed at him all the way down. His downfall was exactly what I needed to refuel the true rivalry and loathing between us.

He kept ending up in the hospital wing all year. I slipped in to visit him whenever he was alone and unconscious. Occasional I talked to him, but more I just had to see his face. The sharp edge of his jaw, the unruly dark hair, and every little mark on his almost tanned skin. All the little details just wouldn't leave my mind as I wandered the halls with Crabbe and Goyle. I told myself that it was to discover weaknesses in him, but the truth was there hiding beneath my feeble lies. The truth that I couldn't bear to accept, but couldn't handle giving up.

I threw myself into my façade. I flirted with Zabini and Pansy and tormented first years, among other noble pursuits. My many underlings adored me and feared me. I was already king of Slithering, and everyone knew it. That sense of being all powerful should have been more than enough success, but oh no, I needed Potter's attention. Telling myself it was only rivalry and loathing wasn't working out very well. My resolve to deny the inevitable outburst of my feelings was slowly breaking down.

I survived third year, but that next summer was agony. I only ever got out of bed because of the Quidditch World Cup, and the possibility of seeing Potter there. Father ruined my plans for the big event with the Death Eater crap. The dark mark freaked him out more than it did the common wizard. We left quickly afterwards. I hardly got to talk to Potter at all, and even that was just taunts. The separation from him left me feeling like a flower living off moonlight. Energy drained from me more and more. The Triwizard thing didn't help. It meant no Quidditch and less seeing Potter.

Going to Hogwarts gave me some of my old fire back, but not enough. The pretty french girls and even Krum himself couldn't get my spirits up. My little secret refused to be buried and ignored any longer. My war with my feelings was in its final battle and the odds weren't looking good. It was only a matter of time before I would have to admit to myself the truth. A fatal truth. I, Draco Malfoy, was in love with Harry Potter.


	3. Straight as a Rainbow

No one knew my secret, two secrets technically. I was not only about as straight as a rainbow, I was (and still am) gay for Harry Potter. The chosen one and Dumbledore's golden boy, the ruin of the dark lord and the quidditch master, he was the worst possible crush for me to develop. If I fell for a mudblood I would be more accepted by family than if I brought Potter home as my…. ugh… boyfriend. I've never liked that word, mostly due to the homophobia running wild among the pureblood community, and by my father in particular. How ironic that was, father was the one I could count on to get me out of trouble and hand over inside information, and yet he would have figuratively, and quite possibly literally, hung me for my true feelings. Mother was always worrying about me, but that didn't stop her from the disapproval made **very** apparent when I finally did come out of the closet. Okay now I'm just rambling, sorry about that.

Back to Potter. He was chosen as a champion. Harry Potter, already one of the most famous people at Hogwarts, was only growing more famous as time went on. This drove me crazy, because if he was out of reach first year then what chance had I with him as his fame grew out of control? I knew in my heart that he would never be mine, but still my hope refused to fade away. I arranged special routes through the halls designed to run into him whenever possible. I watched him in potions, but our only conversation was me flashing the badges I made to humiliate him, "Potter Stinks" haha that's still funny. Don't get me wrong here, these plots weren't in support of pretty boy Diggory, each move I made was to get Potter to notice me. Badges, teasing and sabotage, all to get his attention. I needed to see him, to interact with him.

When the dragons were released at the first event, my heart stopped. I had never felt such fear in my life when Potter walked out to face the Horntail. He looked so defenseless and alone, and for the first time since he refused my offer of friendship, he was not intimidating at all. The dragon was huge and angry. The nasty beast could've eaten him in one bite, and I didn't even know how bad the fire breathing was until that day. Really, it was only called victory cause he survived the beast. There was no competition. Actually, there is never competition for a dragon, not even hippogriffs. I like those even less than idiot boy Ronald. Ronald is gross. And he talks to Potter too much. My Potter. Not Ronald's. He can have the dirty mudblood and they can go live in a house elf den or whatever. Sorry, I'm ranting again aren't I?

Harry Potter, hogwarts dragon defeater, the whole thing was pointless and lethal. Do you know why it was cancelled originally? **The death toll got too high!** Of course Potter was throwing himself into each sadistic event, after all he was a Gryffindor. They have an unhealthy appetite for reckless thrill seeking. He was underwater in the second challenge for so long I nearly had a heart attack, and when you are battling a heart attack it is not easy to make snide remarks and perform elaborate reenactments of other's failure.

I tried to talk to him when the stress died down. I had a minor communication flaw while trying to talk to him. I couldn't seem to stop insulting his family, friends, and overall performance in everything he did. Most people could ignore that, but I couldn't fathom why Potter kept trying to hit me or hex me when I did it. Apparently calling him an embarrassment to his dead parents and how he would be 'a child only a mother could love' if he hadn't got them killed was rude. I say lots of things like that, but not to be rude, I am simply better than the average wizard. Letting them all know of their inferiority is actually a kindness! Father told me so.

Then that final challenge came. The maze, the terrible, stress inducing, awful maze. Hagrid's creatures, the blast ended screwts? Demons. I swear they were conjured from Hell itself. The various challenges were all out of line, I only knew them all because Father told me. I pretended to be excited of Potter's eminent death with him, but my heart wasn't in it. He threw a party actually, Father had Rosemerta herself serving drinks. I bullied her into giving me Firewhisky, several of them, I passed out after three or four of those.

Father had used his influence to get me home for his party, so the next day I had to do school. I had the worst hangover headache the next day. With my luck, the maze thing happened that day. If you've ever been to a race or a boyband concert then you will understand the deafening noise of that event. I actually curled up in pain under the seats. If anyone says I was crying and asking for Mother, they're lying. I took it like a man of course. No whining and sobbing. I don't do that.

When silence fell, I was so relieved. I assumed it was over and everyone left. Therefore, I emerged from hiding under the seats, only to see a horror scene, blood covered the people in the center and the bigger one looked dead. Turned out I was right about the dead one. Absolute chaos ensued and I crawled away to die. Obviously I didn't die, but I did feel as if my head was melting. Noise and hangovers do not get along. Trust me on this, if your head hurts, run away to a dark locked room and stay there.


	4. I Kiss an Abomination

Later I heard the news. The Dark Lord was back. This meant my life was about to get bloody complicated. Father was freaking out for sure, and Mother? Oh the horror, I could only imagine how protective she would be over me. All this did was crush my dreams. I know what you must be thinking, I am a Malfoy, surely I would be glad to have The Dark Lord back. The reality is that his return was worst for the death eaters and their families.

Especially for one fifth year slytherin that was in love with the enemy. We were rivals before, but this became bigger than just us. He was then the bane of my master's existence and was enemy number one. I still loved him, but surely any chance I had with him was gone with one spell on one day of the end of fourth year. That summer was filled with secret meetings and with father leaving on orders all the time. Quite honestly, I hated The Dark Lord that summer and the next year.

Potter's life was hellish in fifth year too. I felt obliged to join the taunts and jeers. Torturing him like that began to hurt me, because all I wanted was to make him smile. If I could see those deep green eyes light up once more, light up because of me, that would have been paradise. It became my fondest dream. If only I could reach out and stroke that unruly hair, if only I could trace every inch of his skin with idle fingers, if only if only. I was lost in daydreams and moved on autopilot alone.

I couldn't stop the pain that came when he frowned. That Cho girl was often at his side, and I burned in anger from the background of his life. My emotions were hellish. The new teacher was this government woman, Umbridge. She was disgusting, she tried to hit on me once or twice. Or maybe many times, but I didn't lead her on to get what I wanted, of course not. I'm a noble and upstanding…. Oh to Hell with it. I flirted shamelessly with her. I got her to tell me what she had Potter doing in those detentions and I almost threw up. She was the most repulsive thing I've ever had to deal with. I winked and flattered, I even gave her cat-related shit. Father approved of my manipulation, so at least one good thing was happening in my life. I was spiralling into a hell I never before imagined.

I saw Potter after a detention with her once and that was enough. I hid in the shadows and heard the pain he hid from the world. He left a trail of blood as he walked. His head hung low, and he looked so broken down, and I couldn't stand it. I tried to raise his spirits after a quidditch game by mocking him. I thought that anger with me would get his spirits up, after all hatred is the best medicine. That plan backfired so badly, oh so badly, and I felt terrible. He got banned for life from quidditch, his Firebolt was gone, and I could see how dead he looked after that.

That last blow was too much to handle, and Potter was looking more and more sickly. The scars on his hands always looked fresh now. Umbridge was his destruction, she was killing the only person I had ever loved and I couldn't take it. I saw him passed out in the library once and inspiration hit. I wrote him a note. It read: " _Harry Potter, I see you hurting. I see your pain. Let me help you. I will end your detentions, just leave me a message behind the painting of that field by the charms class._ "

That night I kissed Umbridge. I bribed her with my attention to stop Potter's detentions. The awful woman didn't even bother to ask why. She was too giddy over having an attractive student lover. I had to see her more often than just classes, but Potter was safe from her. I checked the painting every day and exactly two weeks after I stopped his detentions he responded.


	5. The Letters

" _Er… Thanks. This is so odd, not knowing who you are. I bet you're just Ron being daft, but even so, thank you. Umbridge has backed off quite a bit and it's brilliant. Oh wait, Ron thinks you're Dumbledore. Hermione is even baffled about who you might be. So here's from me... Who are you friend?"_

I read with eager anticipation that first time. At long last, I was on his good side, Harry Potter called me 'friend'. I was thrilled. After a few more readings I was upset. He thought I was RONALD. Stupid, poor, untalented, smelly RONALD. Like the idiot would ever have half the brains or guts to do what I did for Potter. I saw their fights and all the times he took for granted the easy friendship with the man of my dreams. I was snogging Umbridge for him. Creepy evil toad woman UMBRIDGE, that woman is the devil. No, Satan's mother in law. This issue still pisses me off. Bloody awful Ronald. I kept my tone calm in my response to him.

" _Harry Potter, my friend, I cannot tell you of my identity. I have too much to lose. But trust me, I will protect you with the best of my abilities. By the way, I'm not Weasly. I don't even like him, so please never refer to me as him. I beg of you, I nearly threw up at the idea."_

" _Hi again, it's me. Harry, I mean. I kept the last letter of yours secret. Probably stupid, but in this storm of lies I am grateful to have an ally. Even my mates in my dorm are against me. It feels like I'm losing everyone, being bullied on every side, your help is keeping me afloat. Without you I would be drowning. Wow, that was ridiculously sappy. Sorry mate, I don't mean to drive you away."_

" _You won't scare me away, also I included a chocolate frog. Do you collect them? I hope so, otherwise it's a pretty pointless gift. I know it must be hard to feel that trapped. Let's just say I know the feeling. If there's anything you need, just write to me."_

" _Harry here. You are bloody brilliant. I do collect and this one had the witch I've been looking for for ages. This helps. Not the chocolate frog, although I do appreciate it. Writing to you, that's what I mean. Having you around helps. Thanks."_

" _I am glad to hear of the comfort I provide you, in all honesty all I have wanted for years is to make you smile… Now I am the sappy one,aren't I? How odd that we've switched places that way. Sorry if that's a bit much to say, and by the way Umbridge is planning to frame you for something awful tomorrow, she plans to have you distracted during breakfast so you can be blamed. I can only hold her off for ten minutes, but that should be enough. Make sure to be noticed at breakfast."_

" _YOU SAVED MY LIFE MATE. I couldn't have stood another detention with that witch. Thank you, thank you thank you. I owe you more than you know. I want to meet you. You are becoming a part of my life I can't give up….. I can keep a secret if you insist on hiding from the world."_


	6. Caught in the Act

I was so conflicted. The letters kept up like this for months, the two of us becoming close friends, he shared secrets and struggles. I grew to know of his friends, I still hated Ronald, but I began to understand him. Hermione I did like, she's a dirty mudblood for sure, nothing changes that, but she had sense. From Harry's letters, it seemed to be her who kept Ronald from getting Harry killed and/or expelled. I actually slipped a handful of Galleons into her bag once, an anonymous thank you.

He was pouring his heart into my hands, and so I shared some of mine. I told him of my desire to get Father's attention and approval, of the stress of upholding the family reputation, and even of my utter lack of true friends. Everyone I associated with wanted something from me. Harry was always trying to reimburse me for my work with Umbridge, but I refused to take his money. I suppose that Harry Potter, the odd boy I wanted as a friend, was my first real friend. I didn't realize that then, but I considered him an ally and friend. He was my oasis in the tide of hatred.

He became more eager to meet me and to learn who I was as time went on. He would pick up clues as to my identity, but only little things. He knew I was a fifth year like him, a `slytherin, and a guy. He even learned of my pureblood status. The signs were adding up though and soon my secret would be out.

I was tortured by the inevitable loss of our friendship. We laughed and cried together in letters, we shared secrets and homework answers, we traded candies and tricks. I only fell deeper in love and my heart was breaking due to it. Potter was my rival, we hated each other, at least that was the public perspective. In secret I loved him with all my heart and he treasured our closeness. One thing I was sure was never to change was this- Harry Potter would never love Draco Malfoy. That meant my poor heart was doomed.

He caught me near the painting we hid our letters in once. I almost died then and there. My heart skipped a beat when he asked what I was doing. I stammered out some cruel comment from my lengthy list and ran off.

I was never so uncoordinated in my life. Also I was alone at the time. In public I always kept Crabbe and Goyle at my heels to flaunt my power. One must always flaunt their power and wealth in order to stay in charge. If I didn't control the students of my house then chaos would ensue. They needed me to radiate obnoxious rulership, and freaking out around Harry was not helping anyone.

It was late one cold night when he caught me. Christmas was only a few days away and nearly everyone had left, my useless bodyguards were at home and a huge chunk of the Gryffindors had left too. Harry told me in his last letter how no one wanted to stay around him thanks to the newspaper and government trashing him. Apparently there was quite a debate on his sanity going on.

I checked very thoroughly for anyone in the hallway before I left that letter, but somehow he was just there. It was after midnight when I slipped it in and turned to go. A huge gasp stopped me. I turned around with fear mounting and I knew before I even looked that it was him. Harry Potter.


	7. I did not see that coming

He stood there open mouthed, just staring at me. I could feel my hopes and dreams come crashing down. I knew I had lost him. Forever. Tears pushed against my lids, but I held them back. The least my emotions could do is wait to destroy me till after I left his presence. There was no use trying to explain, Harry Potter was on the side of the light, and my family had cleared my path to high power on the darker side of our world.

In my pain I missed one sound. A cat's meow, and not just any old cat either… it was Filch's fleabag! Potter realized it and acted as any sensible Gryffindor would. He lunged across the hallway, crashed into me and drove us through a door and down the staircase hiding behind it. Did I say sensible? I suppose bloody psychotic is a better term. God, how I love his idiotic lack of Impulse control.

In a twist of fate we fell through the floor before Filch spotted us. He heard the noise though, and the curses he laid on Peeve's name were impressive, even by my standards. The dark lord himself would have had competition in fowl language use from that man. So we hid in silence.

That silence lasted longer than it should, because Harry isn't good at conversing and I was in shock. Shock or no, I was all too aware of his closeness. Part of me was screaming in absolute terror, while the other part was very turned on. I moved out of the position we fell into first, because if I stayed one more second I would have passed out or kissed him. Honestly, my money's on both.

I tried to run away from him, I swear I did, but that voice of his… the husky roughness of adrenaline mixing with the silken flow of his honeyed tone, oh god is it hot, when he said stay I was putty in his hands. He came close and stared me in the eyes. Those deep emerald pools put me in a trance, I simply couldn't think, he had only to ask once and I spilled it all.

" _Why?"_

Before I could process what was happening the words were already hanging out in the still night air.

" _I love you"_

My deepest, most painful secret was out with one breath. My face went bright red immediately, so I turned fast and prepared to run until I died of shame. He stopped me. His hand shot out and grabbed mine with all the skill of a seasoned Seeker. His skin was amazingly soft against mine.

I abandoned my attempt to run, but absolutely refused to face him. He stammered for a while and then tried to begin a sentence. Honestly it was so pathetic. Brave and noble Harry Potter, defeator of the dark lord, but couldn't express his feelings in words if his life depended on it.

I turned then, a sharp retort forming itself on my lips even as I moved. Before I could utter a word, his mouth was pressed against mine. This kiss was rough and unpracticed, but oh the passion behind it! He went to pull back and I pushed forward. My long pale fingers tangled in his messy hair, dark thick strands just a bit longer than they look. We fell against the wall, but neither of us noticed.

Harry clearly was new to kissing, but had firey passion for it. I had much practice with it, but never had it distracted me like this, normally I got bored and my mind wandered off. Kissing Harry Potter was so different from anything I had done before. I couldn't string two thoughts together and my body moved on its own.

We were locked together by arms that knew no master but passion. Coherency and reason were lost on us as we held each other close. His firm grip kept me pushed against his chest and my fingers traced his back as our lips met in an eager fervor. All those repressed emotions came roaring out from hidden depths and I began to kiss down his neck. His breathing quickened when my hands began to undo his tie and slip back his robes.

Sadly we were interrupted by the voices of that damn Umbridge's lackeys. He pulled back and I let him fix his clothes reluctantly. We had to leave each other and sneak away, but before we did he said, " _when can we meet up again?"_ I really should have made him wait, but I wanted him so badly that I replied, " _tomorrow at lunch, we can meet…"_ he cut me off here and grinned. " _I know the perfect place, I will find you."_


	8. The Sex King

Needless to say, I didn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned, my mind racing around and around the encounter with Potter. It was better than ever I'd dreamed, and despite my lovely imagination, nothing could compare to the feeling of him. To have that body against me and that dark hair so close, oh I'd imagined kissing him, but the flesh and blood Harry Potter was incomparable. No daydream would satisfy my hunger for him.

I tossed and turned for hours. I would love to say that I was masculine and tough about it. I wish I could lie about it, honestly I try to, but the truth always gets out. I sqealed into my pillows and wrote poetic songs about him. God this sounds pathetic, but I had a Harry journal where I wrote about him. I quietly acted out scenes of us in mortal peril, he would save me and I would seduce him with my silver tongue.

That morning Zabini came to wake me. He wore nothing but a trademark smirk and a too small towel. The other guys groaned and got out quick. Zabini had been known to turn straight boys into gay lovers, but just for a night. He was a player, but only played with the best. I was a flirt, but never had been one of his conquests. We'd had some fun, but I just wasn't interested in anyone but Potter.

So there I was, staring dead into the eyes of the sex king. He let the towel drop and leaned over me with a wicked smile. He was used to getting what he wanted. Or who he wanted, for that matter. My heart beat raced, obviously, but the face in front of me was not the one in my heart. This chiseled Adonis had an effect on my body, but never my mind. When he tried to go for my lips I moved back instinctively.

Zabini frowned and stalked off. By lunch he had a pretty chocolate skinned Ravenclaw on his arm. Her dreadlocks were pulled back into a loose ponytail behind her petite shoulders. My would be seducer played with it idly whilst pretending to ignore me. Honestly? I couldn't have cared any less about his games. My love had only one master.

Without my permission, my eyes scanned for him. The cold air caught in my throat and hope filled my empty lungs. He was looking at me when I spotted him. Oh those green hypnotic eyes of his, I barely saw his shy wave due to my extended vacation in those pools. I did manage to wave back, and I kept it subtle too.

Even that brief contact left me giddy, because wow. HARRY. POTTER. He smiled at me, waited for me to walk in, and was adorably shy because of me. Ahh! I still can't believe it sometimes. For those muggles keeping up I can offer a comparison of having the man of my dreams shyly waving to me; Imagine Andy Beirsack getting, oh bloody hell what do you call it, ah Butterflies? Yes, butterflies in his stomach at the sight of you. My intense internal fan girling was a perfectly acceptable response.

The others noticed my mood and rode the excitement up to the top. Umbridge's class that morning, me included, was more or less a party. I had The Weird Sisters playing loud and illegally obtained butterbeer being passed around. There was dancing and singing and hexing, all the best things in life were at our fingertips. I was meeting the love of my life, so at long last I could let my emotions out.

Time blurred for me. One minute I was partying in class, the next, hiding outside of the great hall around lunchtime. The students held no interest for me and they appeared as a river. Turbulent and unending. I smelled him before I saw him. That fresh morning air with a hint of his natural dusty aroma slipping out, and before I could even turn to see him he was gone. All he left was one strip of crumpled paper shoved in my hand. It told of a hallway and how many steps in to wait.

I waited for nearly half an hour for him to come, but that hope never once faltered. He showed up out of breath already.

"Sorry Malfoy, or Draco I guess, wait which is okay to call you now?"

He paused for a moment, but before I could answer he was tripping over his tongue already. This was more endearing to me than the suave wordsmithing he possed in my fantasies. I had to reassure him, but because of who I am, I just couldn't resist showing off. It's only natural to show off in areas where I am clearly superior.

"You won't be calling me anything once I get you going, save your breath for the fun stuff."

I threw in a wink and a seductive eyebrow raise there. He actually blushed. I could've died of cuteness right there and then. He managed to get a door open after some pacing. This was a perfectly decorated room, stocked with all sorts of toys to try on each other, I had no idea where Harry got it all. He turned bright red and pulled me out by the hand. Neither of us felt like letting go, so I paced with him this time. When we opened the door that time the room was far more tame. It had a large soft bed and a shelf of treats and cards.

We didn't even kiss once that day. We were far to busy talking and laughing. He taught me muggle card games and I dominated him at wizard's chess. We ate sweets till our bodies ached and couldn't take any more. After awhile he fell asleep on my lap. I remember fondly how his little breaths blew on strands of his untameable, dark, messy hair. I too drifted off. He must have been awake for awhile before me, because the room was cleaned again. Harry was watching me with a smile that didn't fade.

It was getting late so we snuck off to bed again. We saw each other fleetingly and still sent letters. There wasn't time for extended time together till Christmas day.


	9. Freckles for Christmas

"Merry Christmas! Oh Draco, look what I got for you"

"Ayy Malfoy check this one out,"

"I got you the biggest gift"

"So what? My gift to him is worth more!"

Seriously, everyone was throwing gifts at me in hopes of getting favors. I was in with Umbridge and Snape, the two worst teachers to piss off. A word from me could have saved their grade or get them in detention for a month. It was pathetic. At least I got a good one from home, sweets and gold and new robes. Also more hair cream, not that I'd ever admit to using it, so don't get any ideas.

Pansy was showing me this eyesore she made for me when Zabini walked out into our commons room. She took one look at him and frowned. Pansy was always obsessed with me and Zabini was a man whore. He had slept with half of Slytherin by fourth year and I was his next choice of prey…

I groaned. Quite honestly he was a pain in my side. Is it thorn? No that sounds stupid. I'm sticking with pain. He was a pain in my side. The git never knew when to stop. So, before he spotted me I slipped out. He could have any girl he wanted, therefore my absence wasn't the end of his world. Zabini was sexy and wealthy and pureblood, but he was also annoying and pushy and stupid.

My heart was set on a hero, a handsome, tongue-tied hero. I found myself thinking about him again as I casually sauntered down a staircase. This time it was a freckle that hid beneath his glasses. I found it adorable. Love can do that to you. One day I didn't have an opinion on eye color, and the next green was the only acceptable eye color. I hadn't cared about freckles until I saw that one barely visible under his glasses, and then I was thinking about freckles on Christmas Day!

I heard his voice, a siren call to my soul, and I was drawn to it. I was tempted to run around the corner, but that might've been too desperate for that point in time. Deep breath after deep breath helped to relax me, and just as I was ready to see him I heard someone else. A smelly, stubborn, ginger someone. Ugly old Ronald. Freckles looked nasty on him.

Talking to Potter would blow our cover, because neither of us could act like enemies without breaking into laughter anymore. Naturally, I had to run the other way. Unfortunately, the direction they sounded to be coming from was not the direction they actually were coming from. I ran head on into Ronald.

"Are you alright?" Said Harry in a tone that conveyed his care. His eyes were locked on mine, but Ronald didn't see that exchange and assumed Harry was talking to him. He stood and frowned at me in anger. My instinct took over here.

"Well now, it is a terrible shame that you got your filthy traitor blood on the floor, but at least you have no looks to ruin." It was a fantastic start to an argument, but I had forgotten one little detail. He's Gryffindor. There wasn't any clever comeback coming my way, but his fist was.

I fight with wands and words and strategies. He only had brute strength to use. I ducked his first blow, but the second caught me off guard. My nose cracked and blood came running down my face. This is where I crumpled and began cursing. Harry snarled and knocked Ronald down with a curse from behind. After that he lunged for me and began freaking out over me. I considered stopping him, I swear I did, but that look of concern made him look absolutely adorable. I may have played up the injury for attention, but alls fair in love and war, or so they say.

"I think I'll lose my sense of smell forever, if I don't bleed to death first." I said with tragic dramatic flair. "Draco, it'll be alright. I have to get you to the hospital wing fast. Can you walk?" He asked in naive concern. Although perfectly capable of doing so, the idea of him carrying me in his arms made me too weak in the knees. How _blessedly_ unfortunate. "No Harry my love, I've lost too much blood to walk." Here he began cursing and mumbling half baked ideas under his breath. Five minutes later, he still hadn't thought of carrying me. Seeing as how black spots were there in my vision I ran out of time. "Harry"... (pause for dramatic effect) … you'll have to carry me." I said this with tragic regret dripping from every word, and it was an amazing performance.

He scooped me up in his arms and forgot entirely about Ronald, who was unconscious on the floor behind us. Later he informed me of my comment's rude nature, and that I had to be nice to his friends, but for the moment it was a glorious victory. I had forgotten one little detail though… everyone saw Harry carrying a blood covered me to the hospital wing. Harry is rather oblivious, so I had to think up an excuse. Harry tried to help, and it was very cute, but he was rubbish at secrecy.


End file.
